Second Chance
by Rianya
Summary: Rose wanted a Time Lord not a human but there was one who wanted a human not a Time Lord. Do second chances work?  kind of major rewrite because I received some very helpful feedback .


Second Chances

She was tired but satisfied as she left the school. Most of the boys had headed home for the Christmas holiday today and the lads who were spending the break on the grounds had been settled in with Mr. and Mrs. Lafferty, the school's cook and groundskeeper, in the large home she'd had built in the back of the grounds. It had always broken her heart to see the boys left behind rattling around in the nearly empty building over the various holidays. The home, while still large, was actually a home. And the Laffertys had no children of their own and loved the opportunity to spoil the boys who stayed behind. She was a little afraid that some of the boys would ask to be left at school for the holidays after they heard from their friends about the fun they'd had. Still, it was nice to be in a position to make a positive impact during this grim time. The war that had been alluded to had come and too many of the boys who had survived the alien invasion had already laid down their lives in Europe. At least here there was a little hope, a little light, a little joy…

"May I escort you home, Joan?"

The woman started causing strands of her dark blond hair to escape the bun which was tidy this morning but was now slipping free. Then she just stopped and stared. What was he doing here? Had she lost her mind? She'd just been thinking of that time and now he was here, looking at her with a mixture of apprehension and hope.

"J-John?" she stammered nervously.

The man was like her John and yet not. He was like the one who called himself the Doctor also, but also not quite him either. He had the same sad, kind eyes as her John but with a completeness that John had lacked. But he lacked the arrogance of the Doctor. He was more human somehow and that humanity prevented her from turning and leaving him where he stood.

"Not exactly." He answered honestly. "It's kind of complicated. Is there somewhere we can sit and talk? I'll tell you everything and then you can send me on my way if you wish."

The humility of his request decided her. In the two years he'd been gone she'd missed him, mourned him more deeply than she'd even mourned her lost husband. Oh, she'd continued her work and made a pretense of being involved with the world around her but she'd been unable to lie to herself about just how empty her life was without his vibrant, imaginative, exciting presence.

"I own the Cartwright place now," she informed him with a silent consent. He fell in next to her as she headed towards the cottage. "A neighbor farms the land for me and gives me a portion of the profit. And I manage Farringham now. There was nobody left. Can you imagine it? A woman, managing a boy's school?"

"Yes, if that woman is you," he told her with a simple sincerity that left her tongue tied for the rest of the journey.

At the cottage she left the man who was so like her John in the parlor while she went to the kitchen to make sure her housekeeper had already left for the day. She had no illusions about what would happen to her reputation if it became known that she was entertaining a man alone in her home. It was hard enough running a boys school and living all alone without starting that rumor mill going.

But the housekeeper had already headed to her own home and family, leaving her a simple meal of stew and fresh bread keeping warm on the stove. She called for John to join her as she set the table for two, an act which awakened bittersweet memories of her husband.

"It's handy not having to cook and clean." Joan noted. "I never imagined a headmaster's job to be so tiring but it really is."

"Joan, I'm not the Doctor," he said baldly, desperate to find out if his hopes could be realized or not.

Rose hadn't wanted him. She'd wanted a Time Lord. That rejection hurt him so deeply and yet he really hadn't relished the idea of being a consolation prize or project either. And when the Doctor in that dimension had shown up to capture a renegade Time Trickster it had been uncanny the way he and Rose had centered on each other. He wasn't _her_ Doctor but he was a Doctor and he was close enough for her. And she – well she was Rose, brilliant, passionate, human Rose. That Doctor was enough like John and his progenitor to be instantly attracted to her. At least he'd been able to convince them to bring him here. Now, if he could just convince her…

"Tell me," she said simply, her eyes fixed on him with utter neutrality.

Actually, she surprised herself. She would never have believed she'd have brought this man to her home if you had suggested it 24 hours earlier. Yet here she was and so was he. It wasn't just that she was desperately lonely and wanting someone to really talk to. Of course the thought of someone to talk to who wouldn't think she was mad was attractive…

"I have to start at the beginning," he warned her. "To explain you have to understand about Time Lords."

"I've read your journal," she interrupted. "I understand that Time Lords aren't human. They regenerate when they are about to die. Every cell in your bodies are rewritten and you end up with a new face, a new mind, a new body. You retain our memories but who you are is fundamentally different. I must confess I can't quite grasp how you can be a new person and the same person at the same time."

"I'm not sure we do either," he confessed. "We accomplish this regeneration with a specific kind of energy that our bodies produce. This energy waxes and wanes in our bodies for a certain period of time after the regeneration."

"I read about the instability of your – personas after some of your regenerations."

"Yes. Sometimes we just require a period of sleep, sometimes we are quite agitated – it varies," he agreed. "The Doctor you met had lost a hand shortly after his regeneration."

"The fight with the Sycorax leader."

"Yes. He cut off the Doctor's right hand but it was at a time when he still had enough energy to grow a new hand

"That is fairly revolting," Joan managed faintly.

"I've heard that before," he smiled faintly. "Well, this hand was retrieved by someone who knew the Doctor and preserved. Eventually, it ended up back on the Tardis. And the Doctor ended up fatally wounded. But rather than regenerate he simply used the energy to heal his injuries and then channeled the rest of the energy into that hand."

"After reading your journal I though that you couldn't be any stranger, and yet you manage it again."

The man winced slightly and pushed on with his explanation.

"The Doctor was traveling with a woman – her name was Donna – and she, the hand, and the Tardis were about to be destroyed when she was drawn to the hand and touched it. I… I grew from that touch and the hand."

Joan shifted her chair slightly away from the man and then immediately felt guilty at the pain that move caused to flicker in his eyes.

"I look like him and I have his memories and I think like him a lot of times too but I also have her memories and her personality in my head too. And I am human, not Time Lord. I'll never regenerate. I only have one heart and there's no way I could change to have two. I've only got one life to live. But I'm not him – I'm me," he told her earnestly, more of his hopes and fears showing on his face than he could imagine.

"And you were hoping I'd live it with you?" she guessed quietly, her head reeling with all these revelations and unsure if she was revolted or flattered or what.

"I'm hoping you'll give me a chance. I'm not him but I have his memories. He loved you and so do I," he informed her with a quiet sincerity that touched her deeply. "But there's more; I killed. On the day of my "birth" I destroyed the entire Dalek race."

"Your journal indicated they were a loathsome and dangerous race."

"Yes but that didn't give me the right to wipe them out."

"Then why did you?"

"I was brand new and angry and everything was happening and... and I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time."

"Oh John!" understanding shone from Joan's face, not condemnation and his posture, which had gradually hunched in on itself, straightened slightly.

"Well _he_ kind of banished me to another dimension - with a young woman who had traveled with him long before he met you. He loved her, you see and she loved him. I was both a project and a consolation prize for her. But however much I look like him, I'm not him, and it didn't work the way he wanted it to."

"Oh John!" now tears shone in her eyes because she saw his pain.

"Turns out there was a Doctor in that world too. He didn't often come to the Earth, unlike the one in this dimension but he wound up there not long after she told me that I wasn't _him_ and she didn't want to see me again. That Doctor brought me here."

"Why?"

"Because I needed to know if..." his voice trailed off as his courage deserted him. Give him a Dalek or a Cyberman any day. He'd already been rejected by this woman once and if she rejected him again after Rose...

"What, John, what do you need to know?"

"I need to know if you would give me a second chance to have that life with you. The one that you saw with him just before he became the Doctor again."

"Why would you want to live with me when you have all of his memories? I'm merely a human. A human from a primitive time who can't understand a fraction of all the things he's seen and done."

"Because we loved you. And I still do."

"How? How can you possibly love me? I don't even understand what you say half of the time."

She turned her back on him, hands pressed to her cheeks in a vain attempt to stem the tears welling up. In an instant he was out of his chair, kneeling before her and clasping her hands in his own.

"How could I not?" he asked her earnestly. "You are an amazing woman Joan Redfern. You were so strong when the Family of Blood attacked. You kept me in line, you kept your standards, you gave me strength. You understood me then; better than I did. You helped me to make the right choice even though it destroyed your dreams. Oh Joan, you are brilliant and so, so worthy of every good thing."

She rather wished he would release her hands so she could cover her red cheeks. His accolades were embarrassing.

"I've been here for a while, Joan. I've established myself not far from London in Essex but I can move closer if you are willing to give me a chance. I write so I can work anywhere. Well, and I consult for Torchwood. Fortunately they won't know how much I look like the Doctor for a century more."

She started at the mention of Torchwood.

"Yes, I know. I didn't have anything to do with them helping you get established, I promise. But I was glad that they helped you. In fact, you working with them is part of the reason I was willing to assist them from time to time. Well, that and a friend of mine works for them – although he doesn't know we're friends yet."

"John," she stopped and looked at him quizzically. "Is that your name?"

"Yes. John Sydney Smith formerly of Nottingham and prepared to be of Farrington. Author by trade and human by creation – that's me."

"Well, John, I – I don't know. You look like him but you aren't him but you are. It makes my head whirl. And I'm still not convinced that you won't hate me one day for tying you down to one planet and time. I've read your journal. You are a wanderer at heart, a rogue and a hero and a coward and the bravest male in existence but you don't seem to be a family man at all."

"But don't you see, Joan, you haven't read _my_ diary, you read his. I'm not him. I can't be him. It's not just that I have a human form, I'm also fundamentally human with Donna's mind and memories. She wanted that life, the one of being settled and watching her children grow and growing old with that special someone. The Doctor was afraid of all of that. Even when he tried it, back on Gallifrey, it terrified him. Well, and it terrifies me too but not for the same reasons.

"I'm afraid you'll reject me too. I'm afraid I will have children and lose them and lose myself. I'm afraid I'll hurt you, just as I've hurt so many people by merely existing; as I hurt this village by hiding here two years ago. But I'm not afraid to stop running – not with you."

"John, you expect too much of me! I can't make you _safe_ – no one could. How can you expect me to change your nature?"

"My nature was changed by my creation, Joan. I. Am. Not. Him. I'm unique. But I will confess that I crave your common sense and gentleness to restrain the anger and vengeance I sometimes feel. I am not him but like him I have killed. I don't want to be a killer anymore. I want to be a man – just a man."

"Oh John, you are so like _my_ John and yet you aren't…" she sighed, deeply torn.

"I'm not asking you to marry me, Joan – not that I wouldn't – but just not yet. All I ask is a chance – a second chance to get to know you and for you to get to know me. I won't change on you; not this time. What you see is what you get. I have a cottage of my own lined up to buy in the village. I could walk with you after your day is finished, we could visit the pub, go to the village dances, just a regular courtship. Then, if you can't stand the man that I am, I'll leave and never bother you again. Just a chance?" he pleaded with quiet intensity.

She nibbled at her lip, considering. It was cowardly but she was terrified of the pain that John Smith's change into the Doctor had caused her. At the same time, she believed his assertion that he was not the Doctor. He had a humility, an understanding of limitations that the Doctor had lacked. He _was _human, of that she was sure. Joan looked into those brown eyes; earnest, pleading, alive with the full knowledge of who and what he was and full of love for her and did the bravest thing she'd ever done. She decided to take a chance.

"Yes, John, I'll give you a chance. Show me who you are. Learn who I am now. Let's see what the "normal" life has to offer. Although I rather suspect that "normal" isn't going to happen around you for long."

The smile of relief that transformed his face didn't really surprise her but the tears of joy shimmering in his eyes did.

"I will do everything in my power to make sure that you don't regret this," he promised her.

She laughed, suddenly lighthearted and giddy as a young schoolgirl.

"Don't make promises you can't hope to keep, sir," she teased him merrily. "And don't keep me waiting for two years again. I expect to see you waiting outside the school tomorrow afternoon – at five?"

"Maybe I'll show up at noon and sweep you away for a quiet lunch for two," he countered, his eyes sparkling with a mischief and enthusiasm which did much to assuage her misgivings about his real desire to settle down.

Her thoughts went back to that life – the one that had played out for them before John opened the watch. What if it hadn't been a story? What if it had been a slice of the future – like the slice that young Timothy Latimer had written to her about that had saved his life and the life of his friend in the fields of France? Were she and John about to embark on that life? Her smile deepened and she looked at John with a contentment that soothed his battered heart and brought the first true peace to his spirit since the day the Tardis had vanished on the beach of Norway in another dimension.

"I can't wait, John. I can't wait to discover what life has to hold."

"Ahh, but you have to wait," he smiled and pulled her to her feet, "because we're on the slow path together. And I wouldn't have it any other way."

He kissed her gently and then began gathering their dinner dishes. Domestic chores – part of the slow path that he'd never had the intelligence to appreciate. When she stepped in to help him, he appreciated them even more. The Doctor would never have this but he would enjoy it for both of them.

End


End file.
